


After Burn

by RicepaperDoll (teaspeak)



Series: Burn [2]
Category: Oresama Sensei | Oresama Teacher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Porn With Plot, Post-Series, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspeak/pseuds/RicepaperDoll
Summary: Saeki Takaomi sees Kurosaki Mafuyu worming her way back into his life after their first encounter that one September. Unsaid feelings come to a head, and their perspectives finally meet. — Sequel to 'Slow Burn.'





	After Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Profanity, drama, mature themes and images, sex, and lots and lots of flangst.
> 
> Disclaimer: Oresama Teacher is not mine.
> 
> Note: A creative study exploring dynamics between characters. Please forgive me if you have any misgivings about what I've done to this series with this fic. I apologize in advance.

 

 **Afterburn** _, n. Psychoanalytic term used in the theory of transactional analysis._ The period of time before a past event is assimilated. The effect an atypical past event continues to exert on a person's daily schedule, activities and mental state even after it is over.

In other words, the residual emotional fallout after a traumatic or meaningful event has occurred.

 

* * *

 

It's strange, Takaomi thinks.

It shouldn't have happened this way, right?

But it did, and the more they pursued this— _whatever_ they had, whatever _this_ was, the more he found himself deep inside a reality he would have never fathomed possible in a million years.

Yet here they were, months later, after their first encounter in September.

After meeting her once again, he had found her creeping into his life more and more, like a silent poison slowly constricting him with her sweet scent, her presence undeniable, pervasive and increasingly distracting.

He was surprised to hear that she left her job and apartment back in their hometown to move out to the city again, close to the old quarters of the high school where he had once taught her. She had gotten a job at a local office, doing desk work, and she quickly settled into a new routine. She went out for coffee and drinks with new friends, tying her girlish short brown locks up in colorful scarves and braids on girls'-nights-out in ways he deemed too sophisticated for her simple beauty. On weekends, she now wore high heels and simple tasteful dresses that were strange to see on her lithe, sporty figure.

Most surprising of all, she moved in next door, at Strawberry Heights, once again. When he saw her boxes in the hallway on an early Winter morning, he knew it was too good to be true. And once again, it was like it was ten years ago, except she was no longer a student. As chairman of the high school, he had decent enough pay that would have allowed him to move out of the dingy apartment he still called home after all these years. But then again, he was never that keen on up-keeping his lifestyle anyway.

On the surface, they lived separate lives as neighbors. On work days, she'd go out in clothing with tailored cuts in classic colors that seemed too severe for her youthful demeanor, as she got ready for the daily grind. They'd sometimes run into each other in the hallways, having a chuckle and giving each other a polite greeting as they rushed to work and took the bus for their daily commute. And he'd come home after long hours of administration work, seeing the lights on in her apartment through the curtained windows near the balcony and he'd know she was up cooking dinner or watching TV or taking a bath and the like, after her long day of work.

Except for once in a blue moon, like this night.

On a cool evening, Takaomi can feel his hands sweating as he unlocks the door of his apartment. For some strange reason, he already knows she's there, half undressed and walking around like she owns the place, because, well, she knows where he keeps his spare key, carefully taped inside a tiny, constructed pocket in the welcome mat. He's only had her over a couple times before during the morning for coffee, their visits ending rather abruptly since he had to rush to the school again for administrative procedures and occasional last minute projects for school events, and that was that.

But at night, it was and has always been a different story…

He leaves the light turned off as he hears the soft padding of feet down the hallway and around the corner from out of the kitchen. He sees a shadow shift in the darkness. His bedroom door opens and shuts itself quietly. On a chair in the living room, he sees a delicate blouse and a thin black work skirt. Some black-heeled pumps sit in the corner near the coat rack by the door. She's there, waiting, he thinks. This would be the third time she's done this.

The first couple of times it happened, their meetings were raw and explosive, and he'd lost his control to her in every way possible. Both times, they fell asleep on the living room couch, and before he knew it, she brusquely dressed and left to go and get ready for work before the sun rose, leaving him dazed, confused and yearning, as if it all had been some very vivid dream and nothing more.

He can already feel himself getting hard and hating himself for it, this maddening arrangement that came to be.

Takaomi steels himself and takes a deep breath. Slowly, methodically, he toes off his shoes, puts down his things, removes his watch, loosens his tie with one swift yank, and starts to unbutton his shirt as he makes his way over to the bedroom with the pretense of getting ready for bed.

He opens the door.

The room is pretty much left dark—but there, on his futon sheets, is just her: a lithe silhouette in rather basic underwear. She's partly bathed in the moonlight from the parted curtains. He can't really even see very much, but he knows that she can see him staring in wonder, drinking her in like a wine. He can even smell the perfume she wore to work, its light floral notes mixing in with the natural woodsy scent of his room.

"Mafuyu," he addresses her raggedly. She shifts on the futon slightly in a half seated position and Takaomi comes to her.

It takes a second, but he's already rushing up to the futon in large steps as she's pulling the flimsy piece of fabric down her hips and he seizes her in his arms, wanting to crush her against him and mash her lips against his. However, the impending feelings of uncertainty overwhelm his desire. He settles for shaking her gently while asking and scolding her through rough whispers, "why are you here now?" and "why are you doing this to me?" He needs an answer from her. It's been long overdue.

But something in the intensity of the situation loses its momentum as she just exhales languidly, letting go of her panties, the nondescript fabric twisting around her calves clumsily. She puts her hands on his broad shoulders and runs them down the built expanse of his chest, and upon meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes, she responds to his fervent questions with light lingering kisses on his face and neck, and he shivers uncontrollably.

He squeezes her arms rather harshly in reprimand. It takes him a second to comprehend that she's been making his wildest, most repressed fantasies come true during these nighttime trysts. The ones that he had long before they were even meeting like this. His muscles quiver at the thought. Here she is, a shocking little vamp, taking him on with her laughable plain underwear that she got from the outdoor market and the same rail thin body and the short brown hair that he used to ruffle whenever he wanted to get a rise out of her…

Takaomi pulls away with much effort, barely able to even reconcile the young soft woman before him with the memory of her as his gawky little sidekick in her high school uniform. In his pants, he could feel his body betraying him despite his thoughts, his arousal growing larger and more uncomfortably. His erection is throbbing, constricted against his thigh.

He looks at her with great difficulty, forcing down his overwhelming want for her in order to get to the bottom of it all. "Mafuyu. What is all this? What have we been doing?" he wants to ask, but finds out that the most he can do is just stare at her. After all, every other time she's done it, he'd never had the guts to say it aloud. Tonight is no exception.

She sits back on her heels, seemingly considering his pained expression, and it's like she read his mind.

"I just thought I'd come here tonight," she honestly admits out loud, expertly reading his fierce expression in silence. Her eyes are wide and unassuming, and god, she looks so young. The room stays quiet as she reaches over to him. He starts pulling back, unsure of what to do with himself. She meets his eyes. "You know I don't have the words to explain it myself," she refers to the strange relationship they've seemed to find themselves in. It becomes unbearably uncomfortable to hear her speak.

"But we're here already," she seems to decide simply. With finality, she moves in closer unhesitatingly, even as he moves back. And he knows it's true.

She lays his hand across his thighs and his muscles seize up as she boldly slides her hand up to feel his hardness. He groans unabashedly, his fingers curling in the sheets. She kneads him experimentally, lightly squeezing.

 _Ah._ He shudders. Well, the both of them were never the best with words, anyway.

Mafuyu continues to shimmy down her underwear, completing what she left unfinished when she tried to mollify him. She kicks them off as she takes a hold of his half-unbuttoned shirt. She pushes him down, onto the futon, straddling him.

 _How different she looks from up there_ , Takaomi wonders as he lies back, holding still against the blankets, his muscles tight with restraint as he allows her to take over. Mafuyu is beautiful, the blue of the moonlight bathing her slender frame, accentuating the sharp simplicity of her demeanor, her face soft, short brown locks framing her face, her eyes piercing and her irises large and dilated, like deep deep pools of fire and ink. Her innocent lips work in a frustrating, restless way, and he thinks to himself that inalienably spritely, mischievous character makes her so irresistible.

Her movements are still clumsy but earnest, straightforward and rather rough. She runs her hands down his body and unbuttons the rest of his shirt. In his stupor, Takaomi remembers past lovers who were more experienced and nuanced than her for a moment, who had practiced ways of satisfying and seducing him in the past, but they all melt away as he sees her move, her guileless nature and gracelessness something captivating and more alluring than anyone he's ever been with before. Her eyes are hooded heavily while she predictably moves onto unbuckle his belt. He finds himself arching up in anticipation. Takaomi feels her tug his length out unpretentiously, it being hot and heavy in her hand. She holds it firmly with one hand as she strokes him boldly, roughly.

He bucks up in surprise. He sighs and his voice hitches, and all he can think of is how embarrassing it is for him to be like this, completely at her power. He stares with intensity at a blank spot in the ceiling, all the while letting his hands drop to his side in defeat as his lower body thrashes involuntarily at her touches. Low hums and growls escape him as she explores the crevices of the veiny length, still heavy in her palm, as he watches her settle herself between his legs.

Suddenly, something wet is on his tip. Her soft lips are kissing him there, lapping up pearls of precum as they threaten to slide down his shaft. He feels a scream of pleasure build up inside of him. He doesn't think that he can handle it.

Something like an anguished growl is wrenched from his throat as he could feel her lips travel down and down so slowly, until he's swallowed completely. _How can she be like this? How can it feel this good to have her do something like this?_ He looks down in inquiry and wonder as he sees her short chestnut locks pool around his groin. Her eyes flash up as she feels his stare on her. And then she pulls back up and sucks. Hard.

It takes every ounce of Takaomi not to shout as if he's having his soul sucked from out of him. A pained grunt escapes his lips. His hips fly up to fuck her mouth and Mafuyu squarely holds him down like she's taming a wild animal. She continues the motions; up and down, licking and sucking, all around him relentlessly. He's delirious, his hands clenching and kneading the blankets on the bed, knuckles white in desperation, his toes curling. Just when he feels himself about to explode, she releases him with a loud smack, her lips just as red, moist, and bright as the tip of his penis. Takaomi feels his entire body seize up as he shivers from the sudden release of pressure, his legs trembling slightly as cool air dries the sweat and saliva slowly on his length.

He gasps her name, dumbfounded, unable to string together a coherent sentence. "H-how…?" he gasps. _Where did she learn how to do_ that _?_

Mafuyu laughs and goes back to her ministrations with downcast eyes, her mouth on him, sucking, squeezing, teasing.

He's on the edge of bursting when she suddenly decides to stop. The neglected area between her legs drips on his thigh as she crawls up to face him. She holds his gaze intensely with those impossibly sharp eyes and sits up, gripping him as she guides his length into her slowly, her walls stretching, accommodating his thick length as she burns him from within. Her half-lidded eyes never leave his gaze. A few breaths later and he's completely buried inside. They sit there for a moment as him to adjust. She leans forward. She doesn't wait to get started.

She rolls her hips as if she's riding a horse, and he can only do so much as to grab her thighs roughly as they both gasp together from the way she bucks and tightens around him. The way they fuck is always angry and passionate, unceasingly intense, as they both furiously work towards release. They accelerate until they reach an almost uncomfortable rhythm, both of them desperate in a way that suits them together like this.

His hands paw her ass cheeks, kneading her hips red and raw. The friction threatens to chafe skin as she presses her naked body flush against his. Her hips bounce forcefully, her breasts press into him insistently. Takaomi's feeling of freedom returns, as if a volley of punches are aimed at him, and he promises to meet them with his own. She impales herself on his length over and over again, flesh smacking wetly against flesh at breakneck pace. Their lips meet and clash, and his breath comes in ragged hitches as he can feel her moan and gasp and breathe into his mouth, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip as she stifles her sobs of pleasure.

She so energetic. Too energetic that he feels his bones rattling inside him, the heat between them threatening to incinerate them both. She's so good at this, he thinks, and she's his, and absolutely nothing can take her away from him—

They both come in a rush, their eyes both dark like coal and embers and completion and something else inexplicable, that they cling to each other fiercely to avoid being swept away in emotions that seem too deep and too difficult to articulate. He can feel her shiver in the after effects, his member still pulsing warm and wet inside her as they lay there, hearts hammering incessantly against rib cages, breaths erratic and ragged. Takaomi wonders if this is what true euphoria feels like.

Their breathing fills the air and he's too tired to move. He doesn't even bother taking himself out, feeling himself soften within her, as she remains soft and pliant against him, her lips ghosting under a pulse point, her face pressed up against his neck.

Takaomi realizes that he's so fucked, quite literally and figuratively, because he doesn't quite know what he'll do if she ever decides to leave his side after this.

They peel away from each other slowly and lay there in silence facing one other, drifting in and out of sleep, in a daze.

...

They've been lying there for a while, unmoving, when he finally he says it.

"Why? Why don't we just live together?"

The air stills. He feels as if he's just made a mistake.

Mafuyu sighs. She's uncomfortably quiet as she considers his question. Minutes pass. "I...don't want to distract you from your job," she finally mumbles, nearly inaudible as she averts her eyes. She turns on her side, pulling up the covers, away from him.

Takaomi can only look at her back incredulously for a long moment, something of a jagged laugh threatening to bubble up from his throat. Hasn't she already distracted him enough? Her touches and presence were like phantoms' fingers running all over his body in board meetings, during public announcements and speeches, as he performed his duties.

Mafuyu continues. "I know that it would be nice for us to be together. But we'd be at home all day." Takaomi can see the wistful half-grin on her face, even though she's not facing him.

 _Yeah, it would be more than nice_ , he thinks. To be honest, it would be amazing. But truth be told, there is too much responsibility they both bear now as adults to just spend their time drinking in each other's presence. The dynamic they had never seemed to be suited for moderation in the least, as much as he would hate to admit it.

"I'll just keep coming like this," she says quickly, startling him out of his thoughts as she slowly rolls up, making a move to depart. Just as she's reaching up to pull back the covers, a strong arm encloses her swiftly, pulling her down. The warmth is intense as she finds herself flush against his chest.

"Stay," he says.

"But tomorrow…" she starts.

"Is just another day. Just please."

A surprised laugh escapes her, hesitatingly almost, her voice dying down to a whisper.

And after a long moment, she settles down again, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace. Takaomi buries his face in her hair, and her scent is there, everywhere around him, comforting.

"Be with me," he mumbles in her hair. Takaomi stubbornly admits that it is not enough to be satisfied that she has decided to stay for the night. What he means is, _I love you. I've always loved you and you know that. I want to have you near me, always._

Mafuyu turns to face him and a strange expression graces her face. Her eyes are shining with some indiscernible emotion that Takaomi feels is reflected in his eyes, too. She looks at him as if she's about to tell him a secret. "Yeah," she whispers.

They stare at each other in a mutual understanding that is the first of its kind between them, unable to say anything more as they drift asleep.

It's morning. Takaomi wakes and Mafuyu's still there, huddled against him. His hearts swells. He is so happy that he forgets how to smile.

And despite their inability to really express themselves, if only through punches, and the way they fight, and the way they love…

They'll make it work, he thinks.

They'll be okay, somehow.

_Owari_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N.
> 
> As I try to get back into the groove of finishing my other _Oresama Teacher_ fic, seems like something came out in this style again.
> 
> Part of this story was written a couple of months after I'd published 'Slow Burn,' but I didn't know where to go with it. I eventually found a way to finish it and post it here.
> 
> For all the lightheartedness of _Oresama Teacher_ , I can't help but want to explore the ambiguous tension that exists between Takaomi and Mafuyu. Since writing 'Slow Burn' back in 2013, so many of you have stated your interest in their dynamic, and upon reading the piece over again, I figured that a one time thing in a public place was not enough to explore what can happen if they were to pursue some type of relationship with each other.
> 
> To me, both Takaomi and Mafuyu have irresponsible personalities, and in the midst of trying to commit to each other or even state how they feel for a proper relationship to take place, they're bad at articulating their feelings other than in a physical way. This inability for either of them to really address what's happening ends up degenerating into the weird "friends-with-benefits" thing that you see above. I figured that if anyone were to eventually address it, it would be Takaomi, who'd end up losing patience with Mafuyu's reason for going along with such an ill-formed relationship, because she's trying to appear more grown up and mature, for his sake.
> 
> In all, 'Slow Burn' and this fic are meant to be more hypothetical than anything else, so I'll save the chat for now, and hope that this interpretation of their characters is one that you'd enjoy and consider.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
